The Red Highwayman Oneshot
by RawrAndI
Summary: Inspired by the poem called "The Highwayman by Alfred Noyes" :D A one-shot with turn of events as the star-crossed lovers faced the end of their love...


Hey guys **sweatdrops **I'm baackk! ^w^" For more stories ^^ The reason why I didn't update the others, it's cuz the computer I used for it broke -.-" All my files there are long gone D: But my mom bought another computer, an Imac one instead -_-". So I can now type my stories here This story is about a poem I read in middle school. I suddenly fell in love with it and decided to make a replica of the reds :D Its called "The Highwayman" by Alfred Noyes. If you don't know what highwayman means (just to make sure), it's a thief and brigand who preyed on travellers. Like, they hide in wait for coaches along the highway and rob them and if you already heard of it, then great! :3 The poem was also between in the 17th or 18th century. Have a fabulous reading! ^^ Note: Soon in the end of this one-shot, the poem will be posted :D Or you can search it up :)

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><p>The wind was a torrent of darkness upon the gusty trees and the moon, a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas. Along the road was build up like a ribbon of moonlight looping the purple moor.<p>

A mysterious figure with a shiny red stallion came riding and riding, up to the old inn door. His French cocked hat on his forehead, and a bunch of lace at his chin. He wore a coat of the claret velvet, and breeches of fine doe-skin. They fitted on him with never a wrinkle and his brown boots were up to his thigh. His shiny auburn hair reflecting the moonlight with his blood shot eyes.

Over the cobbles, he clattered and clashed in the dark inn-yard. He then, tapped with his whip on the shutters, but all was locked and barred. He thought of a plan, and a minute later he whistled a tune to the shutted window. Waiting and waiting… Until it clicked open with a quiet bang, revealing a red headed woman with light pink eyes, plaiting a dark red love knot into her long hair. She flashed a white smile at him… The smile that made him fell in love with her.

Unbeknownst to them, a dark shadow in the old inn yard, a stable wicket creaked. Where Dexter, the ostler, eavesdropped the two couple. His face was pale, eyes were hollows of envy and his hair looked like extinguished fire. But he loved her… the landlords daughter. Like a hound dog with long ears, he listened and he heard the robber say,

"One kiss, my bonny sweetheart; I'm after a prize tonight, But I shall be back with the yellow gold before the morning light. Yet if they press me sharply, and harry me through the day, Then look for me by moonlight, Watch for me by moonlight, I'll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way."

He stood upright and scarce could reach her hand, but she loosened her hair in the casement. The braid of her hair, tightened with a tomato color knot and his face burnt like a brand as the sweet waves of perfume came to his nose. How he love her smell! Then he kissed its waves in the golden moonlight. He nodded a good bye with melancholy in his eyes as he tugged at his reins, and galloped away to the west while the girl looked at him go.

Frustrated and furious, the stableman reported the event that happened earlier to the red coat soldiers. They replied with a gesture and gathered all the others to the old inn. Meanwhile, the red man didn't come in the dawning, nor at noon, and out of the tawny sunset before the rise of the moon. When the road was a gypsy's ribbon over the purple moor. The redcoat troops came marching and marching… King George's men hiked all the way to the old inn door.

They didn't say anything to the landlord but they drank his ale instead. When they finished, they gagged his daughter and put her to the foot of her narrow bed. Two of them knelt at her casement with muskets by their side. The look of death in every window and hell at the other… For she could see, through her casement, the dark road that he would rode on for her.

They bound her up at attention, with many sniggering jest. A rifle beside her, with the barrel beneath her breast. "Now keep good watch!" one of them snickered and kissed her. Tears drop down across her elegant features as she remembered the dead man say, _"Look for me by moonlight, Watch for me by moonlight, I'll come to thee by moonlight, though Hell should bar the way."_

She twisted her hands behind her, but the rope held good. Writhing her hands till her fingers felt like sweat or blood. They fumbled and stretched in the darkness, and the hours crawled by like years.

Till, on the stroke of midnight… the tip of one of her fingers touched it! The trigger at least was hers. She strove no more for the rest. Up, she stood up with the barrel beneath her breast. She would not risk their hearing nor strive again. For the road lay bare in the moonlight…

_Tlot tlot,_ in the frosy silence! _Tlot tlot_, the sound that echoed through the night! Nearer he came and her face lit up with relief, but a hint of worry. _Tlot_ _tlot, tlot tlot,_ in the distance! Were they deaf that they can't hear it? Over the brow of the hill, the highwayman came riding with his maroon like stallion to the inn. The redcoats looked to their priming, but she stood up straight and still with braveness in her soul. Her fuchsia eyes grew wide at the moment until she drew one last breath… _I'm sorry…_ she thought aloud when suddenly, her fingers moved.

The musket released a huge banging sound. A little gray puff of smoke began clearing away from her body, exposing a pool of blood beneath her. The knot on her hair, which symbolizes their love together was now disorganized. Leaving a warning to her lover… with her death. The sound of the tlotting stopped, hearing the sound of the gun shot, he turned and spurred to the West. Not knowing who stood still, but bowed with her head still over the casement, drenched in her own blood…

Not till dawn, a blonde husky man informed him of her death. The color of wine headed man, cringed and covered his face with his rough hands. Remembering the days they spent together. His face grew grey to hear how Blossom, killed herself for him.

Immediately, he trotted off on to his horse and spurred like a madman, yelling a curse to sky. With the white road smoking behind him and his rapier brandished high. Only seconds gone by as another sound of a familiar gun shot was heard near him. They shot him down in the highway like a rag doll where blood red were his spurs in the golden noon, and wine-red was his velvet coat. He lay down, heaving one last breath…

_Blossom…_

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><p>Sorry if you don't like it -.-" D: I used some of the poem words on this story because I was in a hurry with this assignment I was supposed to turn in yesterday. :S This poem is a legend that will live on and on for centuries! ^^ and as I promised, I'll post the poem here...soon lol :D<p> 


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